Questing
by Astalasdrir
Summary: Eliarix, human Frost Mage, sets out as the leader of a party to quest, complete dungeons and bash mobs. From a player character's point of view, not so much a well known non-player character.


**I do not own anything. All rights go to Blizzard Entertainment. And if this story is not completely accurate with World of Warcraft lore, I do ****apologize.**

I crouched down, brushing the topsoil of the dry earth away gently with my fingertips. Peering closely at the fading hoofmark, I focused my concentration on the possible story of the print and what it might tell me. It was gouged out more deeply to one side, a good indication for myself that the horse was traveling north along the dust road. Whether it was the horse and rider I was trying to track, I could not tell. Grunting in frustration, I sat back on my heels and fingered my short cloak thoughtfully. Tracking skills were definitely not my forte; I am a more magic type gal. But being a mage, I guess it is understandable.

I grinned to myself and glanced at my silent companion, Benji. As a conjured water elemental, of my own arts, Benji was there to watch my back from bandits and cutpurses, who were known to prowl in these parts. Benji was a quiet being, but he sure did his job well, and you could almost say, with gusto. I like to think that my faithful elemental was maybe something a little bit more then just an average spell. This way of thinking would be classified as dangerous by my mage trainer, but there just seemed to be a difference in my minion.

Companion, I corrected myself. I didn't like to think of the magicked being, who had assisted me in many battles, as a minion.

I glanced again at Benji, he bobbed gently up and down as he floated mystically above the ground in his water elemental-ly way. Staring straight ahead, as though alert for some unseen danger, Benji's body vibrated and spurts of water escaped the confines of his figure, for, as an water elemental, his whole body was made of water.

I turned away from the hoof print on the ground, and turned back to my present task. Shading my eyes against the brightness of the hot sun, I surveyed the barren landscape half-heartedly. I knew I wouldn't see anything. When I had taken on this quest from the guard at Goldshire, I had expected a short and easy job with no setbacks or delays. Boy, was I dead wrong.

First there was the fisherman, who didn't actually know anything, and sent me on a two-day wild-goose-chase that led me all the way to the border of Westfall. After I got back on track, the elder in the village swore his great-niece was a witch (she wasn't really a witch, just extremely gifted with horses) and I up took his side-quest out of pity and went to find out about his great-niece (or was it great-great-niece…) for sure. The elder paid me well, so it wasn't a total loss. Then I decided that a trip by gryphon was faster then jogging all the way to my next destination, so I used the coin I'd required from the elder to pay for the ride. I had just enough to get to my next goal, but as it turned out, I had to go one stop farther then I actually did. Since I didn't have enough silver for another gryphon ride, Benji and I had to walk all the way there. I gave the guard's letter to the Bridge Keeper, and was rewarded patchwork torso cloth armor, which I sorely needed because good armor for mages is extremely hard to find on quests, for we cannot wear mail or leather. Mail and leather armor disrupts our connection with our magic; not a good situation in this time of war against the Horde. Mages also cannot carry swords or shields too well, but that was okay with me. I like my quarter-staff as well as any sword.

The guard at the bridge charged me to scout out the recently founded Kobold mine near the small village. Kobolds are ugly little creatures who have a horrible liking for mining in any and all places. They have the appearance of a rat/ mole hybrid, standing half the height of a human and only a third of the intellect. Kobolds miners also have an odd habit of stealing candles, which makes some sense, I suppose, mines are quite dark in most places. But the miners protect their candles with their lives, almost as though they were hiding something in them. Of course, as this happens to be the case, us questers are usually given the job of the theft of these candles, to encourage the ugly little beggars that their mines are not worth the effort of maintaining.

So the guard at the bridge presented me with the quest of collecting Kobold candles. I accepted gladly, since in return for my service, I would acquire a pair of wolf fur boots and three silver pieces.

Long story short, I was able to, with Benji's help of course, obtain 15 Kobold candles. Back at the bridge, the guard gave me my rewards and then asked if I would go and see if the mayor of the small village in Westfall needed any help. In my line of work, that usually means he would need help with something, but talking with people was good for my experience, so I accepted.

It was a good eight-hour's walk to the village, and when Benji and I finally arrived, there was an atmosphere of worry and panic. Instantly interested, I hurried towards the town hall where, upon arriving, I saw a large group of villagers standing and talking among themselves. The air was thick and hot with tension, and as I approached nearer, the villagers stopped their private mumblings and stared at me with hope and wonder in their eyes. Actually, I think they were staring at Benji, for I believe few of them had ever seen a water elemental before.

I quite easily pushed through the crowd into the town hall where the mayor stood yelling at everybody. As soon as he caught sight of me though (or Benji at least), he raised his hands in thankfulness to the heavens. The mayor enthusiastically gestured at me to come forward to the front of the room, and as I walked, the villagers parted before me to let Benji and me past.

Once at the front, the mayor explained the reason for the tension in the village. Turns out, the village and surrounding farms, were being plagued in a series of raids by a person they had dubbed, the Black Marksman.

It was a cheesy name, I know, but I didn't care to point that out to the distraught villagers.

The mayor then asked if I would track down the Black Marksman and bring him to justice. They would reward me handsomely, as handsomely as a hamlet of that size could, at least. Without thinking twice, I agreed to the challenge and promptly left the town hall to a chorus of thanks and claps on my back from the villagers.

And that's where I am now. I followed the clue that the mayor had given me to the whereabouts of this Black Marksman, and found a deserted campsite. But thankfully there was an obvious trail of horse prints leading away to the south. Hoping that my tracking skills were good enough to follow this trail, I headed off to the south, with Benji quietly following a few paces behind.

I rocked on my heels as I pondered the events of the last few days. The sun beat down on my head and sweat rolled down my back. I briefly wondered what would happen if I hugged Benji, would he fall apart? Or relieve me of the scorching heat? Then I thought that maybe the magic was having a hard time holding that much water together for Benji's form in this heat.

Suddenly worried, I stood and faced my conjured companion. He seemed ok, to what my eyes could make out. But just incase of a possible disaster striking the water elemental, I stood in a basic enchanter's stance and, breathing deeply, reinforced Benji's form. The blue of my magic seemed swirl up from my planted feet and out my fingertips towards Benji; as the magic touched him, he grew a darker shade of turquoise, which was his whole body's colour. Satisfied with my work, I gently cut off the chilling feel effect of my magic.

The feeling left and I realized something, and as that realization came, I smacked my forehead with my palm. I was a Frost Mage, no wonder I felt like the equator had moved from it's original place and was now coursing through me. Frost Mages definitely didn't function the best in heat. Yet there was something I could do about it.

I took up a level three stance and whispered the incantation for the chilling feel of my Frost magic to reach every corner of my body. Once I had accomplished this, I released the magic into the ground in the form of a frost bolt.

Feeling much better, I said to Benji, "Now lets go find that Marksman."

Benji, of course, didn't say anything, he just stared at me with his pupil-less eyes, but I'm sure I sensed an eagerness in him.

I picked the most covered, shadowed spot from which approach, what I assumed was, the Black Marksman's campsite. It was a fairly decent assumption on my part, for what signaled it out to me was the single plume of smoke, which seemed to rise from the ground towards the sky. Closer examination saw the birthplace of the smoke, a small campfire in a sheltered nook of leafy bushes. Leaving Benji a few meters behind me (he is not the most mastered being in the art of stealth), I sunk low in the tall grass and moved towards the campsite as quietly as I could (I fear my own skill in stealth is sorely lacking as well…). I twitched my fingers in order to be ready to cast a quick spell for capturing the fugitive.

Miraculously, there was no shout of alarm or mad scramble for weapons as I crept through the tall grass. I was about to congratulate myself on my seemingly obvious stealth skills, when I heard a low rumble sound. I froze instantly and listened, half a second away from casting my capturing spell.

I was close enough to be able to peer through the bushes around the campsite. I saw the fire and a small tent set to one side. I also glimpsed what I was sure was the Marksman's horse tethered to a wooden spike submerged in the ground. As the low rumble continued on, almost rhythmically, I cautiously glanced around for my target. A soft moan rose above the crackle of the fire and that was when I realized what the rumbling was. I had been searching for the Marksman's sitting figure and had totally dismissed any other possibility. Now I saw it as soon as I looked towards the ground around the fire, I saw, on the far side of it, the figure of a deeply slumbering human male.

Leaving my cautious maneuverings at a lower level, I stood and, hastening through the bushes, circled to the opposite side of the fire. I whispered the cantation for my Capturing Spell and then spoke aloud:

"Marksman, you can now count yourself arrested in the name of—" I stopped as soon as the smell hit my nostrils. Gagging profusely, it was only then that I saw the empty bottles of grog and ale lying about. I shuddered and started to breath only through my mouth so as not to catch whiff of the ugly smelling drinks.

I had never been one to linger long in taverns or pubs. It was mostly the smell that drove me away to pleasanter places.

One glance around the scene told that the leather clad Marksman wasn't asleep at all, but dead drunk. He mumbled in his dead-to-the-world state and the low rumble of his snores caught in his throat.

Disgusted, I roughly pushed the man onto his front with the toe of my boot. Placing one knee on the lower part of his back, I swiftly and expertly bound his wrists together. After accomplishing this, I skiffed him of his weapons, a long, but clumsy dagger, another smaller dagger and a knife concealed in his boot. Putting the weapons far out of his reach, not that he could use them very well in his condition, I then tied his feet together after removing his boots.

The horse, which was dapple gray in colour, watched these proceedings with little interest as it chewed its mouthful of grass.

Standing back to examine my handiwork, I summoned Benji to come, then moved over to examine the horse.

It was a female, I noticed and it had a fairly decent conformation for a horse, though I very much doubted that the Marksman had acquired the animal through acceptable means. The horse's saddle and saddlebags were sitting nearby and I stooped to see if I might obtain anything useful from them. The leather pouch of coins I quickly hung on my belt, also a few more bottles of ale and some camping gear. I tried on some cloth gloves, but finding nothing more, I abandoned my search.

Benji, by this time, had come up beside me and I stood to show him my 'new' gloves.

"What do you think, Benji?" I asked, knowing that he wouldn't answer me. "They seem sort of worn, but they're cloth." The elemental bobbed gently where he stood, er… floated; staring straight ahead.

As it was so, I turned my attention to how-in-the-name-of-Varian Wrynn was I going to drag the semiconscious form of the Black Marksman back to the village to answer for his crimes. If I could get him on the horse my task would be easy, but the problem was _getting_ him on the horse. The horse itself wasn't very high, but lifting a one hundred and ninety pound unconscious being up onto it… As far as I was concerned, I might as well be trying to lift him up Mount Hijal. Benji might be able to lift that much weight, but he didn't possess thumbs. Or hands for that matter.

After several moments of intense brain wracking, I decided that my only course of action would be to wait until the Marksman woke from is unnatural slumber so he could clamber onto the horse himself.

Thus I settled down to wait. And the spot I chose to settle at was upwind and far away from the smell of ale.

But in this burning heat, and my own lack of the ability to sit still for long periods of time, I was soon up trying to find something to amuse myself.

I scouted the perimeter.

Cooled myself off with a blast of frost magic.

Cooled Benji off with a blast of frost magic.

Doused the smoldering fire with a blast of frost magic.

Checked the saddle and leather strappings on the horse.

Loosened it's girth.

Examined the Marksman's weapons.

Unbound his bare ankles in preparation for his journey on the horse.

Recited four of the Six Forms of Frost Magic that I knew.

When I was halfway through the third form, the Marksman made a noise that was not a soft moan. I figured that this was as good a time as any to be on my way, so I stalked over, grabbed the Marksman's arm and tried to roughly hoist him to his feet.

Grunting with effort, I said, "When… *guh* when we get back, the, *uh*, diet of prison food, will be good for you."

The Marksman groaned and tottered groggily, as he finally stood erect, or as erect as was possible for him. I snorted with disgust. No drunken thief would get any pity from me; it was their fault for stealing and drinking too much in the first place.

"Get on your horse, you moron," I said and half led half dragged him to the patiently standing horse. The man tried to flail his arms to keep his balance, but with his arms being bound at the wrists, the only thing from keeping him from falling was the grip I had on his upper arm. When I released him, he instinctively clutched at the saddle to hold himself up.

"Whasss goin'on…." His voice was slurred so it took me a moment to comprehend what he was saying.

"You're being arrested, scum, now get on that horse," I tried to sound full of authority, but wasn't sure how well it worked.

"Mmmm… wheress'me grog…." the man unsteadily tried to walk his way over to the many empty bottles lying around.

"Oh, no you don't," I had anticipated the Marksman's reluctance to leave, so I had picked up one of the smaller daggers earlier. Now I held it at the man's back and steered him back to the horse. "Get. On. The horse."

"A'right, a'right… no'nee' fer li'll missy taget ang'ry…" he lifted one foot up to the stirrup and immediately fell backward. I clenched my fists in annoyance. I was about to force the Marksman on the horse when he himself scrambled slowly to his feet and more or less recaptured his balance.

"Shtop mov'in da sship, der…." Heaving himself at the horse, he finally managed to get his foot in the stirrup.

It took three tries to get him in the saddle, and he only succeeded by having me boost him up at the last second. The horse must have been extremely well trained for it stood still and endured the awkward treatment it was being forced to take on. The Marksman swayed unsteadily on the horse's back, and I tied his legs to the saddle's fenders to help keep him on the horse, and his hands I roped to the front of it.

And finally, I took up the reins at the head to lead the horse back to the village. The Marksman belched unceremoniously.

"Watch him, Benji," my words were unnecessary, though. Benji always had my back.

Luckily finding my way back to the village was easier, all I had to do was consult my map. When we made it back to the village, I headed straight for the local jail. By this time the Marksman had awoken more fully and when I dropped him and the horse off to the guard at the jail, he tried to suborn my gold-loving personality with what he referred to as, 'his heaps and heaps of gold in his hidden cave'. Unfortunately for the Marksman, I didn't buy his charade and gave him to the prison guard without a second thought. In the company of Benji, I returned triumphant to the town hall to collect my reward. Once again, the town's folk parted upon my arrival, so I easily made my way to the mayor. With a thankful speech, the mayor congratulated me and expressed his gratitude for ridding the town of the thieving Black Marksman. As 'touched' as I was for his speech, I really just wanted to receive my gold and leave, so when the mayor finished speaking and handed me my reward, I was sorely disappointed.

"Is this… all…?" I asked as I fingered the two silver pieces and fifteen coppers in my hand. I didn't want to seem ungrateful, but it was _I_ who had done all the heavy lifting. Literally.

"As I said before, 'we will reward you as well as we can," the mayor beamed at me like I had just told him he was now the king of Stormwind. "We are a very small out of the way village."

"I suppose…" I placed the silver in my coin purse and then turned to Benji. "Well, Benji… that's that, I guess. Now we have to go back to Stormwind."

Stormwind City, the capital city of the country Stormwind, is the largest human city in the land of the Eastern Kingdoms, and is located on its northwest coast of said land. High mountains surround the beautiful city as a natural defense. Although there are roads for one to navigate the city with, there also exists water filled canals, where the citizens can fish, or boat on. Stormwind is mostly a human dominated city, but night elves, high elves, dwarves and a few other races do live within the walls. Stormwind is the home of King Varian Wrynn, who rules from the Stormwind Keep, and the Academy of Arcane Sciences, the last great school of wizardry left in the east. Therefore, with me being a mage of Frost Magic, it is only natural I should view this place as a sort of home base, from which to return and revitalize my stamina. Plus it is nice to take a break from questing and would-be dangerous circumstances.

I had decided to go back to Stormwind to learn the next stage in my mage training, which would make some things in my certain occupation easier. And to visit my family. I haven't seen them since I took up questing. I hope my father wasn't too mad still with my decision to postpone my mage studies; he is a semi-powerful mage and a friend of the King of Stormwind, Varian Wrynn. Not a best friend, but still a friend. It is quite an honour for my family. My mother and three sisters sure enjoyed going to ballroom dances with the other noble families. My older brother travels the world waging battles on the Horde as a warrior of the Alliance. I follow in his footsteps more then the others in my family.

Folding up my map and tucking it back into my satchel, I proceeded to find the local Flight Master. Most places had one, for flying on a gryphon is really the only way to travel. I enjoy the experience tremendously; flying over the land, watching the trees and mountains whip by. Seeing the ant-like people move about their daily lives. I will never get tired of gryphon travel. I just hoped I'd have enough silver pieces to pay passage to Stormwind.

Truthfully, though, Mages actually don't need to take a gryphon flight. We are known for our ability to teleport to major cities instantaneously; if one is high enough in the studies of the class of Mage. And 'high enough in studies' is what I happened _not_ to be. So I had to settle for flying, which is completely fine with me, but having to fly or even worse, walk everywhere, could possibly make others grumble and groan. I just think of it as a great form of exercise. I'm actually seriously thinking of learning to summon Portals when I arrive back in Stormwind. Not only can we teleport ourselves, but we can also teleport others. We even sometimes charge a small fee for our services… a very nice arrangement for us, and our clients.

I'd go to Stormwind and learn Portal Summoning.

When I noticed the unmistakable nests of the large gryphons, I hurried over to the Flight Master, who happened to be a dwarf, to buy passage to Stormwind. As I came closer the dwarf greeted me with a traditional dwarf greeting.

"Hey there," the dwarf's rough voice sounded as happy as a bear in a tar pit. And as I thought about it, I found that dwarves did remind me somewhat of bears. Really short, gruff bears.

"Um… hey. Do you have a flight passage to Stormwind available?" I asked bluntly, but not rudely. Dwarves are very blunt with each other and others usually, making being blunt a polite way of their speech.

So short, gruff, blunt bears.

"Lassie, if ye got the gold, I've got yer passage," came the reply. The dwarf gestured to one of the gryphons roosting in one of the nearby nests. "Nancy'll take ye where ye needs to go."

"Thanks! How much…?"

"Hmmm, er, hmmmm," the dwarf put on a charade of great and philosophical-like pondering. Finally, he made decision. "Lassie, fer a beauty like thee, I'll make the price at two silver pieces and "Eighty-four coppers."

"Seriously?" I asked aghast at my misfortune. "I only have two silver and…" I counted my coppers making sure to include those that I had taken from the Black Marksman. "… Twenty-three copper! Of all the bad luck…. Can't you lower the price? I'll give you all I have."

"Twenty-three, eh? Sorry, lassie. If I were to lower the price fer every broke soul who came wondering throu 'ere, I'd go flat broke meself."

"Oh, come on! Do you know how far Stormwind is from here?"

The dwarf scratched his chin in genuine thoughtfulness this time. "I'd reckon 'bout forty-three mil-"

"Yeah, that's right, forty-three miles. Do you expect me to walk forty-three miles? I'd die!" There were, of course, limits even I'd put on walking long distances.

The dwarf shrugged his shoulders as though the only thing he cared about on me was my silver. Which was probably true. "If ye can't pay, ye can't fly."

Silently, I cursed the stubbornness of dwarves. They were pretty handy in an intense battleground, but when it came to talking and politics… well… the political situation turned _into_ an intense battleground.

Benji followed diligently as I stomped away from the Flight Master. Now I would have to walk forty-ish miles to Stormwind, just to be able to learn how to teleport there. It would take more then twelve hours, depending on how fast I walked, and it was already mid afternoon. Maybe I could pick up another quest in order to get more silver so that I could actually pay for a gryphon passage. Yeah, that's what I'd—

"Pardon me."

A soft voice from my left stopped me abruptly. The voice belonged to a tall being with forest-green hair, along with elegant sideburns (if sideburns could be elegant…) and skin tinged a shade of purple. I didn't even need to notice the long pointed ears or the softly glowing, yellow eyes to know that this was a Night Elf.

"Pardon me," the elf repeated.

"Oh, uh, yes? What is it?"

The elf was clad in leather armour, and carried a long, wooden staff with vines magically entwined in it on his back. He bowed graciously to me, as he spoke, "Please forgive me, but I could not help but over hear that you require passage to Stormwind."

"Um, yes. I do," I couldn't help but see the differences between the Night Elf and the dwarf. They were almost opposites, where a dwarf was short and stocky; a Night Elf was tall and graceful. A dwarf was blunt and rowdy; a Night Elf was all about manners and peace. Dwarves lived for mining; Elves lived for nature.

"My name is Astalasdrir, son of Marduriel, and I happen to be headed to Stormwind myself. Since it is both in our favorable interests, may I propose we accompany each other to the city?"

I took a second to think this over.

"Why don't you just pay for a gryphon ride for yourself? Why offer to help me at all?" I asked politely. "It's my fault for spending too much silver on material goods."

The elf, Astalasdrir, was silent for a moment. Then he answered, "I believe in helping others. No matter who, what, or what race. I am a Restoration Druid, so I help all living beings with spells of healing," he studied my face for a minuet before adding. "And this Restoration Druid also happens to be out of silver as well."

I frowned, puzzled, "… Was that a joke?"

Astalasdrir nodded with an unemotional face.

"I do admit that there was an attempt at humour in my last statement."

"Oh… You're new to this kind of thing, huh," it wasn't a question. I then decided to change the subject.

"So, you're a shapeshifter."

"The name is better titled as 'druid' since shape-changing is not the only ability we posses."

"I see. And you figure that it's in both of our best interests to travel as companions?"

The elf nodded again. "The road to Stormwind is full of dangers and peril. Groups are less likely to be attacked at random, and are more advantageous in a course of defense."

I thought this over. Astalasdrir did have a point. It would be very beneficial to travel together as temporary companions. Who knew what dangers lurked on the road from here to Stormwind. Furthermore, since Astalasdrir was a Druid maybe he would have a shape-changing form that could be ridden. But, of course, I wouldn't be the one to mention that; it would be sacrilegious for me to ask without him offering first. Maybe I should just put all thoughts of not actually walking on my own out of my head. Maybe Astalasdrir didn't even have a travel-form.

I watched the elf's tall form and steady stance. He looked calm confident and ready for action; whatever action that might be.

All of a sudden I heard a commotion from up the street. Astalasdrir, Benji and I turned towards the sound to see a troll barreling towards us.

"BATHROOM! WHERE'S THE BATHROOM?"

Several village guards were running after him, spears brandished menacingly. "Stop!" "You there! Troll!" "Stop in the name of the King of Stormwind!"

Trolls were not on the Alliance's side of the ongoing war. The species altogether had sided with the Horde. Which is why the guards were pursuing him with such vigor. As I lost sight of the strange group, I scratched my head in puzzlement.

"That's not quite what I meant by action… I'm Eliarix by the way. Daughter of Dalardrius Icebelt. I guess."

Astalasdrir bowed his head. "May you always have the good fortune of Elune, Eliarix, daughter of Dalardrius Icebelt."

"Thanks," I paused before asking, "I think traveling as companions would be good, Astalasdrir. As you put it, the road is dangerous."

With that, I went to buy extra bread and cheese for our journey from the food and drink vendor outside of the town hall. I fingered my depleting coin purse as Astalasdrir, Benji and I started walking down the road. _Well_, I thought, _at least when I get back home I can stock up on gold…_


End file.
